


Drunk On You

by BeautyInChains



Category: Travelers (TV)
Genre: Caught, Come Eating, M/M, Masturbation, Public Masturbation, Sexual Fantasy, slight exhibitionism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-02 19:08:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17269412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeautyInChains/pseuds/BeautyInChains
Summary: God, he needs to stop this while he can. His teammates are right there. He can hear them, chattering away. Can make out the rough timbre of Trevor's voice and shivers, hips hitching as he remembers the husky gravel of Trevor's voice in his ear saying things like yes and Philip and gonna come.





	Drunk On You

**Author's Note:**

> Can't stop, won't stop? I just can't get enough of these two and I needed to write some more happy smut. This is a direct sequel to Keep Dreaming, Keep Drinking in which Trevor is kind of a tease and Philip is a horny mess and Marcy is amused. 
> 
> Title has been borrowed from the song Young Hearts by Mila Nile. I was definitely grooving to the YOU (Netflix Official Soundtrack) the entire time I was writing, and boy is a it A Mood.
> 
> Unbeta'd, con-crit/kudos/comments most welcome <3 I hope that you enjoy!

Philip can't stop thinking about it. Any of it. About Trevor's lips on his. About Trevor's tongue slipping inside his mouth. About Trevor tugging at his hair. About Trevor writhing beneath him, so hard and desperate to come. About the little hitching moans that spilled past Trevor's lips. About the look on Trevor's face when Philip finally pushed him over the edge. And it's making Philip crazy. He can be a distractible mess at the best of times, but even the others are starting to catch on. How can they not?

Philip warms the moment Trevor enters a room. Get stupid and dizzy with it, lips twisting up despite himself. His heart skips a beat if Trevor's body so much as brushes against his own. And the smell of him when he leans in close? The worst part is Philip is certain that Trevor knows exactly what he's doing; with those deep, penetrating eyes and seemingly casual touches. Carly just rolls her eyes. Mac shakes his head, hands on his hips like a disappointed matriarch. And Marcy grins, poorly concealed in her amusement.

Philip is having a hard time with it. Emphasis on the hard. He can remember everything. His body remembers everything. It's like his senses are heightened now whenever Trevor is around. His thin t-shirts feel like torture against his pebbled nipples. The slight tug of his hair elastic when the locks are pulled back tight is a cheap echo of what Trevor had done to him. His cock throbs, heavy and thick, trapped against the leg of his jeans. And much like Marcy's amusement, Philip's arousal is poorly concealed.

Philip jumps as a hand finds it's way onto his shoulder. Feminine and petite. Marcy. "You look like you could use a break," she says, not unkindly. "You've been at this for a while, why don't you go get some rest?" Philip scrubs his hands over his face. Trevor's still working away on something with Mac and Carly, brows furrowed in concentration, not unlike the way they'd furrowed when - "Philip?"

"Uh, yeah. You're right," he says, standing quickly, cock dragging painfully in his jeans. Marcy might be saying something else, but Philip's stopped paying attention. He crawls into bed and buries himself under the covers. He unbuttons his jeans with a hiss, dislodges his cock from its confines and sighs with relief. It's short-lived. Philip bites down on his lip as he rolls into his stomach, cock brushing against the sheets below, the weight of him creating a delicious friction.

God, he needs to stop this while he can. His teammates are _right there_. He can hear them, chattering away. Can make out the rough timbre of Trevor's voice and shivers, hips hitching as he remembers the husky gravel of Trevor's voice in his ear saying things like _yes_ and _Philip_ and _gonna come_. Philip shoves his face into the pillow, hand slipping between himself and the mattress, fingers curling around his cock. Just holding, at first. And then stroking lightly over the silky flesh, fingering over every curve and ridge, every vein.

Philip moans softly, hips pumping as his grip tightens. He can't stop now. He _needs_ it. He holds fast to his cock, fucks into his fist with a little grunt. The mattress squeaks in protest and Philip bites down on his lip, stills and listens. They're talking about...dinner? Trevor's murmuring something about marinara and, yeah, he can work with that.

Between the thick blanket and current exertion sweat is beginning to bead along his hair line and the nape of his neck. His cock throbs in his grip, aches. He needs to get off, clear his head. Philip starts thrusting again and this time he's not pulling any punches. He fucks hard and fast, cock slip-sliding easily through his fist with the way he's leaking with it. Dripping. He thinks about how wet Trevor had been, how his precome had soaked through his jeans long before he'd blown. Philip moans. His wrist is beginning to cramp beneath him, the slight squeak of the mattress steady now.

He's so close, slack jawed and panting into the pillow, muscles bunching up tight. Trevor's saying his name and he doesn't sound as far away as he had a few minutes ago. He sounds closer. _Close_. "Philip?"

Philip comes with a stifled cry, hips jerking as he spurts hot and thick over his fist. He's still shaking with it when the blanket is tugged from his head.

"Phil?"

"Trev," Philip says, swallows hard. The rush is over and the shame and embarrassment are beginning to take hold. Philip feels hot all over, cheeks burnt red as a bead of sweat slips down his temple. Trevor's knowing eyes rove over him, chest rising and falling more rapidly. He licks his lips.

"Oh," Trevor says finally.

"I," Philip starts, stops. And then Trevor's sinking to his knees next to the bed. Philip can feel his heart hammering in his chest as Trevor slips a hand beneath the blanket, searching. Philip gasps as Trevor's fingertips brush over his hip and then under. Philip can tell the second Trevor feels it, wet and warm against his fingers. His lips part on a sharp exhale, pupils blowing out to black as a tremor runs through him.

"God, Philip," Trevor rumbles.

"I needed-" Philip tries again.

"I know, baby," _Baby_ , "It's okay."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I just, God, I can't believe you did it right here. They're so close. Anyone could have heard you. Found you."

Philip swallows hard, throat working, "I know."

"Did that make it better?" Trevor asks after a beat. Clever Trevor.

"Yes," Philip whispers.

"Filthy," Trevor says reverently as hand slips from beneath the blanket, fingertips glistening with Philip's come. Philip watches raptly as Trevor brings his fingers to his lips, pink tongue peeking out from between. Philip's jaw drops as Trevor laps the mess Philip's made off of his fingers, tongue darting over and between the digits before he sucks them into his mouth. The sight of Trevor sucking, dark lashes fanned out against hollowed cheeks has Philip gasping for air. He pulls off with a pop.

"Hungry?"

"That's a loaded question," Philip says.

"Not the only thing that's loaded."

" _Fuck_ , you make me crazy."

"I'm not going to apologize for that," Trevor says with a laugh.

"I wouldn't ask you to."

In the end it's Marcy that breaks the spell as she appears in the doorway. And if the grin she sports is knowing neither of them say a thing. "Dinner's here. Philip, you hungry?"

"Mmm," Trevor hums, affirmative, "I'd say he's famished."


End file.
